


Haven

by Aini_NuFire



Series: Musketeer Dragon Riders [42]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Dragon Riders, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:33:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29465058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aini_NuFire/pseuds/Aini_NuFire
Summary: The musketeers are sent to recover a dragon stolen from the French army. But they find an entire clan of dragons hurt by the war and a young woman giving them sanctuary.
Series: Musketeer Dragon Riders [42]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564573
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

Porthos stood with arms crossed, a stern, evaluating furrow in his brow as he watched the two cadets currently engaged in a round of hand-to-hand sparring. One of them swung his arm and almost toppled himself with the force of it.

"Keep yer feet moving," Porthos barked.

They circled each other before striking again.

"Elbows in."

The first lad tripped and went sprawling in the dirt.

Porthos sighed and ran a hand down his beard. He had never had to work with so many green cadets before. Oh, he'd seen a handful out on the front, young men who had no business being in battle except as cannon fodder. Porthos had no intention of relegating these recruits to such a fate.

But it was going to take a lot more work to get them in shape…

"Again," he commanded.

The boy pushed himself up and resumed his ready stance.

"What happened to showing them moves first hand?" d'Artagnan said cheekily as he and Aramis came over to join Porthos.

"The goal is to _keep_ them, not scare them away," Aramis answered.

"The goal is to make them into soldiers. Tall order," Porthos grumbled.

"We all had to start somewhere," Aramis said charitably.

That was true, but Porthos didn't remember himself ever being so…bumbling. Growing up in the Court of Miracles, those who didn't learn how to defend themselves quick didn't last long. And that was Porthos's worry with these cadets: they wouldn't last long enough to become skilled soldiers.

"You've gotten back up to speed," he commented, nudging Aramis with his elbow. At least Porthos didn't have to worry about his best friend not being able to handle himself.

"In some ways, it's like I never left," Aramis replied, a somber note to his tone. "And in others, I know I missed a lot."

"Nothing worth writing home about," d'Artagnan said.

"You've all changed," he went on. "In subtle ways, but I can tell." Aramis forced out a small smile. "I'm glad you three were able to be there for each other."

"Well, we're four again," Porthos said staunchly, putting an end to this glum reminiscence. "And I'm sure between us, we can get these recruits in tip top shape as well."

Aramis's lips quirked. "If we don't break them first."

Porthos grinned devilishly and was about to suggest the cadets take on Aramis and d'Artagnan, but then he caught sight of Athos and Treville entering the garrison. Athos saw him looking their way and waved them over.

"Saved by Musketeer business," Porthos chuffed and called an end to the cadets' sparring. Then he, Aramis, and d'Artagnan crossed the yard to where Athos and Treville had stopped at the base of the stairs.

"Something going on?" d'Artagnan asked.

"A dragon has been stolen from one of the French regiments," Treville announced.

They all shared dubious looks at that.

"How does someone steal a dragon?" Porthos asked incredulously.

"That is a good question," Treville replied.

"Are they sure it didn't just…fly off to hunt?" d'Artagnan said.

"Witnesses saw a cloaked figure riding off on the dragon from the camp. We can't spare anyone from the front, so the King wants you four to look into it and hopefully retrieve the missing dragon."

"Where did it disappear from?" Athos asked.

"Tartaso. The regiment still has a foothold there, so you'll be able to meet with Captain Sardou, get his full report. And hopefully your dragons can pick up a scent."

Talk about an intriguing mission. Porthos definitely wanted to know how someone had managed to steal a dragon right out from under the army's nose. Could it have been a Spanish agent? Someone specially trained to accomplish such a feat?

With their orders delivered, Treville left to return to the Louvre and the four musketeers went to prepare for their mission. Porthos and Aramis had their dragons saddled and ready before the other two. Granted, Athos had some final things to handle as captain, and d'Artagnan took a few minutes to say goodbye to Constance. After two years apart, even short absences had to be difficult for those two.

Athos saddled Savron, and then they were just waiting for d'Artagnan. Once he finally pulled himself away from his wife and got Ayelet ready, Athos mounted up and told Constance the garrison was once again in her capable hands. She watched them subsequently take to the sky and head out.

It was a several-hour flight south to Tartaso and was already nearing evening when they finally arrived at the encampment. There were no other dragons with this regiment, just the one that had been taken, as the calvary's resources had been spread out as much as possible along the front. The Musketeer dragons landed at the edge of camp and were immediately met with a man in uniform striding toward them.

"Captain Athos?"

"Yes," he replied as he dismounted. "Captain Sardou, I presume?"

The man nodded. "Four dragons," he commented with barely veiled envy. "The Musketeers are well fortified."

"And we will do everything we can to see your dragon returned to you," Athos replied. "Tell us what happened."

Captain Sardou turned and started to lead them around the edge of the encampment. "We were between campaigns. Six nights ago, our dragon took flight out of the blue and left. Several men spotted a cloaked figure on his back before they disappeared into the night. We had no hope of following or seeing where they went."

"And there was no disturbance from this stranger approaching the dragon?" Athos asked.

"None. It was quiet that evening."

"Maybe it was someone the dragon knew," Porthos speculated. "Any of your soldiers missing?"

"Everyone is accounted for," Sardou replied tautly.

"Then how do you explain the dragon jus' up and leaving?"

Sardou came to a stop and rounded on them. "Isn't that what you're here for?" He turned and gestured to a patch of flattened grass. "This is where the dragon bedded down."

Athos nodded to their own dragons to move forward and try to get a scent. "It's too late to pursue the trail now. We'll leave first thing in the morning."

"I hope you brought your own rations," Sardou replied as he turned to march away.

"What is the dragon's name?" d'Artagnan called after him.

The captain paused to look over his shoulder. "Vrost."

With that, he left the Musketeers to their own devices.

The dragons continued trying to get a scent, then bedded down in Vrost's place for the night. Porthos dug out a dead rabbit from his sack and tossed it to Vrita. The others had also packed a few snacks for their dragons, though it wasn't much and they'd have to hunt at some point. D'Artagnan started a small fire for them to gather around, the sounds of the camp a familiar backdrop to the nighttime cicadas.

"Feels like we should be goin' into battle tomorrow," Porthos commented gruffly.

"I know what you mean," d'Artagnan agreed. "To be honest, I'd hoped never to be out here again." He flicked a nervous gaze around and lowered his voice. "It's selfish, I know."

"No one wants to be out here," Athos replied sagely.

"I just feel guilty," d'Artagnan went on. "We got recalled to Paris while so many are still out here, will be out here until the end. Etienne, Christophe, all the others."

They fell silent at that, thoughts momentarily turning to their fellow musketeers somewhere in this night, sitting on the edge of a battlefield that could be their last come dawn. Porthos shifted in discomfort at the haunting memories of the past two years. Aramis kept his eyes on the ground and didn't move at all.

No one said anything. They couldn't change what was happening, and they couldn't change how things had played out. At least they were together this time, wherever their current mission might lead.

They finished their meager rations and then each went to recline with their respective dragons for the night. The late June evening was mildly cool, a far better temperament than the winters the musketeers had endured on the front. Porthos listened to his brothers shuffling slightly as they got comfortable, then drifted off himself.

.o.0.o.

Waking the next morning was also familiar—the sounds of soldiers trudging out of their barracks for a breakfast of gruel, the scritch and screech of steel being sharpened, and the loud voices going through roll call. The four musketeers quietly packed up their things and mounted their dragons. There was nothing left to say to Captain Sardou, and so they simply left once their dragons had a decent enough scent of their target.

A week was a long time to pick up a trail, though. Porthos wondered whether they were actually expected to find this dragon. It could have flown anywhere by now.

Rhaego seemed to have a solid bead on it, at least, flying northeast straight and true without any wavering. And it seemed as though the thief wasn't Spanish, since the scent wasn't taking them south to the border. Unless there was no thief and that had just been fabricated to cover up the fact that Captain Sardou's one dragon had just up and left. If so, it was still unusual behavior and they needed to get to the bottom of it if they could.

"Over there!" d'Artagnan shouted, pointing off to his right.

Porthos squinted and spotted a dragon swooping low over the distant forest. They should have asked what color Vrost was, so as not to go chasing after a wild dragon by mistake.

Savron belted out a call. The other dragon immediately took a nosedive and disappeared into the trees.

That was…odd.

Porthos looked at Athos to see what he wanted to do. With a nod, their captain directed Savron to veer toward the forest, and the other three Musketeer dragons followed suit. The dragon they were going to investigate didn't reappear. In fact, by the time they were flying over the woods, it was like the animal had vanished.

Vrita let out a bark and banked toward a glade where they all could land. It was around the place the dragon had disappeared, so likely it had touched down there as well. It was empty now, but Rhaego bent his nose to the ground and quickly whipped it back up again, having found a scent. He started off on foot into the trees.

"Hold on," Athos called. "Is this the dragon we're looking for?"

Rhaego pulled up short and furrowed his expression, canting his head with a perplexed look.

Aramis leaned over in the saddle to look at his dragon, then grimaced. "I believe he may have mixed the scents up."

Porthos rolled his eyes. Well, it was better than when the red dragon couldn't concentrate long enough to hold onto a scent.

"What about the rest of you?" Athos asked the others.

Vrita ducked her gaze contritely; she didn't still have it from the camp. Ayelet cocked her head thoughtfully and glanced at Rhaego as though he could tell her the right answer. Savron chuffed and flicked his head in indication they might as well keep going.

Athos sighed. "Alright, then."

Their dragons continued on through the forest, their riders sitting atop their backs and keeping their eyes peeled against the green and brown foliage. They eventually came upon a more open area with the ruins of an ancient castle or fortress. There was still no sign of that other dragon. Porthos was just beginning to think they'd been diverted by a wild goose chase when a twig snapped within the ruins. Everyone's gazes jerked toward it as a large black dragon climbed up onto one of the stone walls. Its gleaming eyes fixed them with fulvous intensity.

Porthos tensed, thinking it a wild one. But then another snaked its head around a cornerstone, and a third emerged from a cave in the back. The musketeers exchanged taut looks. They hadn't brought much acimite with them, not expecting to need it. More dragons appeared from the sides, hemming the musketeers in on three angles. Porthos drew his dagger made of a dragon's claw.

Within moments, they found themselves surrounded by over half a dozen dragons and nowhere to go.


	2. Chapter 2

For several long moments, nobody moved. D'Artagnan was tense in Ayelet's saddle, and he could feel her fidgeting slightly beneath him, but the wild dragons weren't snarling or growling at them, just watching intently. No sudden movements, though…

He flitted his gaze over the dragons with a mixture of curiosity and guardedness. He'd never heard of so many wild ones congregating together like this. His eyes roved over a pewter gray dragon, then snapped back to it as he recognized the French brand marking its flank.

"Um, isn't that…?" he spoke up, keeping his voice level and calm as he flicked his gaze meaningfully toward said dragon.

The others turned their eyes that direction.

"Vrost?" Aramis prompted.

The dragon narrowed his eyes and took a recoiling step backward.

Savron made a trilling sound and straightened up tall and commanding. Vrost glowered back at him almost sullenly. D'Artagnan wished he knew what they were saying to each other.

Suddenly all the dragons shifted their attention to something inside the ruins, and d'Artagnan's brows rose sharply as a young woman strode out. Her skin was dark like ebony, and poofy hair fanned out from the crown of her head like a splayed headpiece. She came to a stop at the edge of the ruins, right between two dragons, and glared at the musketeers with open suspicion and hostility.

"Who are you and what do you want?" she demanded, an interesting accent to her voice d'Artagnan couldn't place.

He exchanged a flummoxed look with the others. This situation was just getting stranger by the minute.

Athos and Savron shifted position slightly to draw attention. "I am Athos of the King's Musketeers, and that dragon is the property of the French army." He pointed to Vrost.

The woman's eyes flashed. "A dragon belongs to no one," she declared sharply.

"Then what are you doing with all of these?" d'Artagnan asked pointedly.

She shot him a scathing glower. "They are here because they wish to be. I do not command them. They have suffered from the war and I have rescued them."

"Taking a dragon out of an army camp isn't rescue," Porthos put in. "It's theft."

"He was injured and did not want to fight anymore."

D'Artagnan found himself arching his brows dubiously again. "And how could you possibly know that?"

She skewered him with a bland look. "Because he came with me."

She turned and beckoned Vrost forward. He responded with no further prompting, letting her gentle hands guide him into shifting to show them his side where she ran her fingers along numerous scars. They weren't unlike the ones their own dragons had received over the past two years. D'Artagnan could still clearly see the one on Rhaego's wing from when he'd been harpooned.

Vrost, however, also had a more recent wound on his leg that was still in the process of mending.

"He has been used grievously," the woman said. "And it was time to put an end to it."

"Are you saying _all_ of these dragons were…liberated, from the army?" Aramis asked incredulously.

D'Artagnan swept his gaze over them all again. Surely they would have had more reports of dragons going missing if that was the case.

"Some are wild," she replied. "They were forced from their homes when the armies marched on their land. But the others, yes, have suffered in battle and do not wish to fight anymore."

D'Artagnan suddenly noticed that the black dragon on the wall bore the brand of the Spanish army, and his hand immediately went for his sword. Ayelet picked up on his alarm and went rigid, gaze snapping around in search of the perceived danger.

"D'Artagnan?" Porthos asked.

"That's a Spanish dragon," he gritted out.

Ayelet growled low in her throat, and the others shifted in agitation.

"I have rescued dragons from both sides," the woman interjected sharply. "Many do not share the same hate as their masters. Here they may live in peace. I would thank you to leave your war where it belongs, on the battlefields."

The musketeers faltered. D'Artagnan didn't really know what to say to that.

She regarded them for an extra, taut moment, then lifted her chin and turned her gaze to address their dragons. "I am Clara. You are welcome to shed your slavery and stay if you wish."

D'Artagnan's mouth moved soundlessly in indignant disbelief. Was she serious?

The Musketeer dragons, to their credit, merely exchanged quirked looks at the offer but didn't make a move to shuck their riders off their backs.

"Our dragons aren't enslaved," d'Artagnan said.

"You force them into battle where they are injured or crippled," she argued.

"We don't _force_ them," he pressed. "They fight by our side willingly."

Clara snorted. "Yet here you are, insisting this dragon does not have the agency to choose that for himself." She gestured to Vrost.

D'Artagnan bristled. He didn't know what she had told the dragon to somehow convince him to abandon his regiment, but no doubt she had manipulated him to support her own agenda.

He looked around at all the gathered dragons. "No one disputes this war has been terrible," he said. "But the best way to put an end to it is to win. If you rallied all these dragons to fight, it could give France a significant advantage, maybe even a decisive one."

"You don't get it," she snapped back. "These dragons are not weapons. They don't _want_ to fight and die for this petty human cause."

"Perhaps we can all take a few minutes to reflect on this," Aramis interjected before tempers could flare further.

"Reflect all you want," Clara said. "But you will not take this dragon against his will."

With that, she turned and marched back into the ruins. Most of the dragons withdrew along with her, though a few remained where they were, continuing to watch the musketeers and their dragons with suspicion.

Athos dismounted first and moved a bit of distance away from their observers. The rest of them did the same, flicking guarded glances back at the other dragons.

"Well," Porthos remarked. "This was unexpected."

"Indeed," Aramis agreed. "Now we know how someone was able to 'steal' a dragon from the French army. Though, I suppose we can't really call it theft."

"That doesn't change the fact that Vrost is a French-owned dragon," Athos pointed out.

Aramis's mouth thinned. "I do understand Clara's position, though. Vrost has suffered some serious wounds. Captain Sardou made no mention he was injured and currently recovering. Forcing him back into battle in this state is cruel."

"That is not up to us," Athos said.

"Couldn't we jus' report that we never found 'im?" Porthos asked. "I mean, it was a long shot to begin with, wasn't it?"

Athos leveled a stern mien at him. "That would be breaking the law."

"Not like we haven't done that before," Aramis put in. "When it was for the greater good."

Athos sighed and rolled his eyes.

"What about the fact that there are enemy dragons on French soil?" d'Artagnan hissed.

"I doubt they're here as some undercover spies," Aramis replied. "From what I could see, more than one of those dragons is crippled. There is little use left for them in war."

"It is not an uncommon tactic to continue sending dragons into battle until they are dead," Athos pointed out. "Even when they can no longer fly, they are still formidable forces on the ground."

Aramis crossed his arms. "That doesn't make it right."

"I didn't say it was." Athos shook his head and looked up at his dragon. "Perhaps you can try to reason with Vrost. We have no issue with Clara and her intentions here, but we were sent to bring him back."

Savron looked thoughtful for a beat, then inclined his head in agreement. He turned and shuffled back toward the ruins, leaving the rest of them to stand around and wait.

.o.0.o.

Savron was aware of the tense gazes following him as he meandered into the ruins. He paid them no heed, having no intention of challenging anyone on their own territory. He spotted Vrost off in a corner, seemingly trying to make himself as unnoticed as possible. Savron approached him casually and introduced himself. Vrost flicked a mistrustful look back at him. Savron was an alpha and Vrost would be able to sense that, but he wasn't this dragon's alpha and wouldn't treat him as a subordinate of his clan.

Savron asked for his side of events in this whole situation.

Vrost said he'd been part of the French calvary for over thirty years. He'd gone through several riders in that time, mostly temporary ones assigned for specific purposes. Some he'd formed friendships with, but those were gone now. He had been at war for two whole years without respite, and he was tired.

Savron gently reminded him about his duty, but Vrost cut him off.

The army wasn't like the Musketeers. He understood why Savron believed in the cause, why he would choose to stand beside his human, but Vrost had no such bond. He wasn't treated like a partner among the soldiers, but as a beast of burden. And for a long time he didn't believe there was anything else for him. Until Clara showed him there was. He would not go back.

Savron's jaw firmed up as he considered the dilemma. The Musketeers had orders to retrieve Vrost and return him to his post, but that had been under the assumption that he had been stolen, not that he'd left of his own free will. Soldiers who quit during wartime were considered deserters, a crime punishable by death, but it wasn't as though Vrost had ever been given the choice to be enlisted. It was just the way things were.

Savron wasn't sure how to handle this. He had his own duty to uphold, but as a fellow dragon, he couldn't in good conscience subject Vrost to what was essentially enslavement, especially when he was injured. Yes, that was the nature of war, and most dragons didn't question it, but Vrost had, and there was no going back from that, not when he held no true loyalty to his human taskmasters.

Savron tentatively asked what if they could get him transferred to a different regiment? Maybe even the Musketeers?

Another dragon stepped in and warned Savron to back off and leave Vrost alone. Savron drew himself up, holding that precarious balance between not backing down but not overtly challenging either. He pointed out that they were just talking.

He'd said his piece, the other dragon pressed. So it was time for them to leave.

The crackling tension caught the attention of Savron's den mates, who appeared at the entrance of the ruins, all of them tautly poised for a confrontation.

They weren't here to cause trouble, Savron tried to assure the other dragons. He supposed it was time to give ground and back off, but before he could begin to leave, Rhaego stiffened abruptly, his nostrils flaring as he snapped his gaze to the black dragon. Its eyes flared in response and it gnashed its teeth with a snarl. The black dragon was Spanish—and the Musketeer dragons had encountered it before in battle.

Rhaego growled and coiled his muscles, the other dragon doing the same, which triggered increased posturing from every dragon in the place.

Savron barked at Rhaego to stand down.

The russet dragon continued to bristle with hostility, but after a moment he slowly retracted a step. The tension was still palpable and Savron thrust his snout toward the woods for the four of them to leave. Several pairs of eyes watched them severely as they made their way out, but no one launched an attack.

Savron relaxed minutely once they were outside, though it was swiftly replaced with the grim task of conveying to his rider that Vrost was not interested in returning with them.

The four Musketeer humans turned as the dragons walked back over to them.

"Everything okay?" Aramis asked, arching a brow in question at each of them.

Rhaego made a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat.

"Will Vrost be returning?" Athos asked Savron.

Savron shook his head.

The humans exchanged silent looks at that.

"Well," Aramis said. "That complicates things."

Athos pursed his mouth in thought. "You could exercise your authority as an alpha over him?"

Savron furrowed his expression. He could try…but he didn't want to. He gave his rider a meaningful look and shook his head again.

Athos frowned.

"So now what?" d'Artagnan asked.

Athos was still looking at Savron. "A dragon deserting could be disastrous if other dragons hear about it and decide to do the same."

"None of the Musketeer dragons would do such a thing," Porthos declared staunchly.

"Maybe, but what about other regiments?" d'Artagnan responded.

Savron didn't look away from Athos. It was his thought as well, and he understood the potential ramifications of it. But he also understood the ramifications of forcing Vrost back to the army. There was a right and there was a wrong here, and whatever came afterward they would just have to deal with.


	3. Chapter 3

With Savron refusing to basically bully Vrost back into service, the musketeers were left unsure what to do. They could debate it all they wanted, but when it came down to it, there wasn't really much they could actually do about any of this. Porthos decided to leave Athos to his mulling and seek out this Clara. He had to admit he was mighty curious about her, out here all alone with an entire clan of dragons.

He stayed outside of the ruins, walking a perimeter along the edge of the woods while trying to catch a glimpse of where the young woman had gotten to. He didn't see her, though, and he didn't want to just walk in there, not with all those dragons poised to view them as a threat.

Sounds of disturbance caught his attention, and he turned his gaze toward the source. There was growling and grumbling coming from the trees up ahead. Porthos stalked forward cautiously, hand once again on the hilt of his dragon claw dagger. He saw a bit of rufous orange through the foliage and crouched down so as not to make his presence immediately known.

A dragon was in a small clearing, backed up against part of a crumbling stone wall and throwing its head back and forth as Clara stood before it. Next to a lithe human, the dragon looked large, but Porthos could tell it wasn't yet fully grown. It also didn't have any markings on it to declare who it belonged to. Was it wild, then?

Clara took a step forward and then stopped. The dragon's eyes rolled wildly and it snapped its jaws at her. Porthos tensed and gripped his dagger, ready to intervene. Clara extended her hand, palm outward, and Porthos's heart lurched with fear for her getting it bitten off.

The dragon's nostrils flared as it stared back at her, but she didn't even flinch. Porthos wanted to charge down there, but he knew that any sudden movements would likely startle the agitated dragon into attacking. So he waited, against his instincts.

Clara stood perfectly still and calm for several long moments. The dragon's heaving breaths gradually slowed and it blinked rapidly at her. Her lilting voice carried faintly over to Porthos, though he couldn't make out what she was saying to the dragon. Then, ever so slowly, the dragon stretched out its nose toward her hand. Clara let her palm mold over his nose and simply rest there, not pushing, not retreating. The dragon closed its eyes and lowered its head to the ground where Clara finally moved closer and began to stroke its brow. Porthos was utterly awed by the display.

He shifted, and a twig cracked beneath his boot. Both the dragon and Clara stiffened and whipped their gazes his direction. He quickly stood and raised his hands non-threateningly.

"Sorry, I didn't want to interrupt."

Clara eyed him with mistrust, then whispered something to the dragon. It slowly rose to its feet and shuffled off.

"That was impressive," Porthos went on, nodding after it.

She crossed her arms and continued to glower at him. He hesitated when he noticed her forearms were criss-crossed with numerous scars. Some looked like deep gouges, others looked like burn marks.

"From working with dragons," she said pointedly.

Porthos blinked. "Uh… I know two dragon keepers, and they don't have scars like that."

Clara let her arms fall to her sides. "They use fetters and tools as deterrents. I do not."

"Was that dragon wild?" he asked, cocking his head toward the one that had left.

"Yes. He was driven from his home by the war. He is young and easily made anxious. But he is learning. The other dragons are teaching him."

"Taking so many in from different backgrounds like this…it's dangerous."

She let out a scornful snort. "That is the nature of a dragon. You can earn one's respect, but you can never tame it. Not even the one you ride."

"I have Vrita's respect," Porthos said. "And she has mine. And more. She's one of my best friends."

Clara cocked a considering look at him as though trying to ascertain his sincerity.

"You could ask her," he added. "She's probably not far." He turned and let out a short whistle.

Sure enough, the branches rustled as Vrita emerged from the cover of the dense foliage.

Porthos grinned at her, then flashed that smile at Clara. "She doesn't like it when I go off on my own."

His dragon came to stand beside him, watching the young woman curiously.

"I was jus' telling Clara how much we respect each other," Porthos said.

Vrita scrunched her face up like she was questioning that statement. He crossed his arms and glowered at her, to which she chuffed and nudged his shoulder with her nose and let out a chortle.

"Yeah, yeah." He gave her a playful shove back.

Clara was still watching him guardedly. "I'm surprised to find a dragon so comfortable around a man, especially a soldier. In my experience, they value dragons as nothing but weapons or symbols of status."

Porthos sobered. "Yeah, there are people like that. The Musketeers are different, though." He laid a hand on the side of Vrita's neck and she made a crooning sound like a cat purring.

Clara's mouth pursed. "I can see that," she finally said thoughtfully. But then her eyes hardened again. "The dragon you came for, though, is not of the Musketeers."

"No," Porthos said regrettably. "He isn't."

"You say you respect your dragon, would you respect her if she chose to leave your regiment?"

He opened his mouth to immediately counter that she wouldn't, but caught himself in time. That wasn't the point here. He looked at Vrita, who gazed back at him with unwavering fealty and love. He couldn't imagine any circumstances that would push her to want to leave them all, but suppose there were? If it was what she truly wanted, if it was what was best for her…

He turned back to Clara. "Yeah, I would," he said seriously.

Which he supposed meant he'd have to respect Vrost's. Now he just had to convince Athos to as well.

The three of them wordlessly started to head back to where the others were waiting. Whatever discussion might have continued after Porthos wandered off seemed to have come to an end and they were standing around silently.

Porthos drew to a stop and folded his arms across his chest. "I vote we leave Vrost alone," he said. "Report that we found no trace of 'im."

His friends shared a round of looks at that.

"I agree," Aramis said.

D'Artagnan stood with his arms tucked up under his armpits, expression pinched. He didn't say anything either way.

Savron bowed his head in agreement as well, and they all looked to Athos.

Their captain regarded them tautly for a moment, then sighed. "Very well." He fixed Clara with an austere mien. "But no more sneaking into military encampments and convincing their dragons to desert."

"I won't abandon my rescue efforts," she replied, lifting her chin defiantly.

"If yer caught, you'll be executed," Porthos put in. "You can't save 'em all; why not focus on the ones you've saved already?"

"Porthos is right," Aramis said. "There are other ways to help the dragons than taking them away from regiments. Doing that will only disadvantage France and prolong the war."

She continued to glower at them stonily but said, "Fine."

There were a few moments of awkward silence after that; apparently there was nothing left to be said. So with that, Clara turned on her heel and strode back into the ruins and her clan of dragons. And the musketeers headed out on foot to depart.

"Just like that?" d'Artagnan asked a ways into the forest. "If we return to Paris too soon, the King will think we didn't try hard enough. Treville no doubt would be suspicious."

"We can't waste time on a false errand when we have the Dauphin to protect," Athos replied.

"The King wouldn't have sent us if he didn't expect us to be away for a bit," Aramis weighed in. "We can give it another day, then return to report that we searched all that time and found nothing."

Athos shook his head to himself. "If the deceit is discovered…"

"How would it be?" Porthos pointed out. "We're the only ones who know and we won't tell anyone."

Athos still looked vexed but didn't say anything more about it. "Then we might as well just make camp here for the night. Our dragons need to hunt anyway."

They all wordlessly agreed with that and set about removing their saddles so the dragons could hunt unhindered. Once they were all freed of the leather buckles, the four took to the sky, brushing the tree tops as they left and showering leaves and twigs down on the musketeers' heads. Porthos merely shrugged and began picking up the pieces for kindling.

There wasn't much conversation to be had while they settled in for the rest of the day. Yes, it did feel strange not heading straight home after calling an end to their mission, and Porthos certainly would have preferred his own bed to sleeping on the ground. D'Artagnan, no doubt, wanted to be with Constance. But it was just one more night and it wouldn't do any harm.

They hadn't been lounging around for very long before a range of screeching suddenly went up from the direction of the dragon sanctuary. The musketeers immediately leaped to their feet, and Porthos figured they were all wondering the same thing—had their dragons ended up back there in a tussle over hunting spoils?

The four of them quickly set off through the forest, anxious to discover the reason for the commotion. But as the ruins started to come into sight through the trees, Porthos didn't see any of their dragons in their midst. Instead, there were very human shouts echoing through the air.

Porthos ducked down at the edge of a small knoll and peered into the clearing. Aramis, Athos, and d'Artagnan crowded in alongside him, staying low as they took in the scene. Two dozen men were swarming the area, throwing flash bombs at the dragons to disorient them while others followed through with net launchers. Already three dragons had been snared and grounded.

The black Spanish dragon came lumbering out with a raging roar, and a man darted in and threw a fistful of blue alchemical powder in his face. The dragon jerked its head away and stumbled, its movements rapidly turning lethargic before it came to a teetering stop and collapsed. Men moved in with shackles and chains they immediately snapped around the dragon's neck and wings, binding them together so he wouldn't be able to move when he woke up.

"I don't believe it," Aramis uttered. "It's the bandit from the monastery."

"The one who stole the gunpowder?" Porthos checked, scanning the invading group. He easily spotted the bald man striding through the middle of the captured dragons as the rest of his men efficiently and swiftly rounded up the rest of the dragons.

"Boudier," Athos filled in, eyes narrowed at the scene.

Porthos searched for Clara but didn't see her. He didn't see that young wild dragon, either. Maybe they were away from the ruins. But this ruckus would certainly draw them back.

The bandit, Boudier, strutted around looking pleased with his catch. "These will fetch a pretty price," he said loudly to his comrades.

"This one's missin' a leg," one guy pointed out, prodding a dragon trapped in a net with the butt of an obsidian tipped spear. Acimite. "What do you wanna do wit' it?"

"Let the buyer decide," Boudier answered. "Even a dragon skin is worth something."

Porthos furled his fingers into fists. Those bastards.

"Get back to camp," Athos told d'Artagnan quietly. "Try to wave down our dragons before they get wind of this."

"Aren't we going to stop this?" Aramis asked.

Athos's jaw was firm, but he nodded. "We need to regroup first."

"I'm gonna find Clara," Porthos said, pushing away from their perch and backing away into the cover of the trees. Ignoring Athos's hiss at him to wait, he sprinted off toward the spot he'd last seen her with the young dragon.

He hadn't really expected her to be that close, though, so he was surprised when he spotted her slinking along the edge of the outer stone wall, a dagger in hand. He didn't want to alert the men to their presence, so he cupped one hand over his mouth and made a sound like an owl's hoot. She paused and jerked her gaze his way. Porthos waved at her to come to him.

She cast a look back at the ruins, then quickly darted across the ground toward him. "What is the meaning of this?" she hissed sharply.

"Hey, we had nothin' to do with it," he rejoined. "Looks like these are hunters, or jus' plain mercenaries. We overheard 'em talking about selling the dragons off."

Clara's eyes flashed with alarm and she turned back toward the ruins. "I can't let that happen."

Porthos lashed out a hand to grab her wrist. "There's over twenty of 'em. You can't take 'em on alone. We need a plan."

She furrowed her brow skeptically. "We?"

"Yes. Now let's get back to my friends and hopefully our dragons are back from hunting so we can figure something out." He glanced around the area. "I didn't see that young dragon…"

"He was agitated again. I was leading him away from the ruins when I heard the dragons start shrieking. He's safe."

Porthos nodded. "Good. Let's go."

Clara hesitated, but after a moment followed him as he started to make his way back to meet up with the others. They were going to need a seriously good plan to pull this off…


	4. Chapter 4

D'Artagnan hurried through the forest toward their camp. He couldn't see through the tree canopy whether the Musketeer dragons were nearby or not, though surely all that racket back at the ruins would have drawn their attention even if they were pretty far out. He whistled sharply, hoping to catch them if they were already on their way back.

A few moments later, a distant trill carried over the air. D'Artagnan whistled again just as he reached the camp and spotted Savron and Vrita swooping overhead. Rhaego and Ayelet followed, and the dragons all circled in to make their way down to the ground. The moment they landed, their heads immediately snapped taut in the direction of the ruins.

"A large group of men has ambushed the other dragons and taken them captive," d'Artagnan quickly explained.

The Musketeer dragons exchanged alarmed looks at that.

"Once the others get back, we'll figure out how to help," he rushed to assure them, in case one of them got it into their head to launch a rescue mission _now_.

Crunching underbrush drew their attention as Athos and Aramis joined them. A few moments after that, Porthos arrived with Clara.

"You will truly help us?" she asked them, expression still guarded.

"Yes," Athos replied, though it was hardly an enthusiastic response.

"These men came prepared and know what they're doing," Aramis put in. "We'll have to be careful so our own dragons aren't also caught."

"How did they even know these dragons were here?" d'Artagnan wondered aloud.

"Their disappearances from their regiments weren't exactly discreet," Athos said, shooting Clara a sidelong look.

"We're outnumbered," Porthos interjected quickly before Clara could take offense. "But freeing some of the dragons would definitely improve our odds."

"The element of surprise is all we have," Athos added. "So we'll have to make the most of it. We'll use one dragon as bait to draw some of the men away from the ruins. Porthos, d'Artagnan, and Clara will come in from the back and free as many dragons as you can. Aramis and I will take up a sniper's perch for when you're discovered. Then the rest of our dragons can join the fight," he finished.

"You'll be the most easily spotted," Aramis said to Rhaego.

"Agreed," Athos echoed. "Savron, Vrita, and Ayelet can work their way around to the north side of the ruins to stay out of sight."

Aramis turned to his dragon. "Try not to attack the men until you've led them a good distance away."

Rhaego smacked his jaws like he'd think about it.

Athos and Aramis grabbed some muskets from their saddlebags, which they then left behind as they all set off to enact this little rescue operation. They split up almost immediately, Athos and Aramis moving south to cover the ruins from that side, while the rest of them circled around to the north end. Rhaego hung back halfway to the ruins and would give them time to get in place before he presented himself as a target to the hunters.

D'Artagnan and Porthos followed Clara through the woods around the rear side of the ruins. Once they reached the wall, the other three Musketeer dragons also held their position until they received the signal to join the fight—namely, when all hell was bound to break loose.

Clara led them through a crumbling archway and along the overgrown shrubbery that had taken up residence in the stone hall. As they drew closer to the sounds of the makeshift camp, they ducked low beneath a shadowed overhang and peered out. Every single dragon had been subdued, either with chains or nets. Those just in the nets appeared to have been knocked out by some drug, and those in chains looked groggy. Several men were backing a very wide cart platform up to one of the dragons in what looked like preparation for loading it up.

"We must move quickly," Clara hissed.

"We will," Porthos growled back, holding a restraining hand out in front of her. He nodded to d'Artagnan. "You got yer picks?"

D'Artagnan rolled his eyes and pulled the set from his boot where Porthos had taught him to keep them.

Porthos smirked in approval and pulled out his own set. "You know how to pick a lock?" he asked Clara.

Her lips mashed together in a tight line.

"Right, then maybe you better stick with the nets," Porthos said. "That one over there looks like he's wakin' up."

D'Artagnan glanced toward the green dragon shifting slightly under the weighted netting.

Clara drew a dagger and gave a staunch nod.

It wasn't another minute before Rhaego appeared, shuffling through the woods toward the ruins. He stopped at the tree line, pulling his head back in feigned surprise to find a bunch of humans in his midst. A shout went up from the men, followed by Boudier barking out the order to get that one. Rhaego backed up slowly, and d'Artagnan tensed when he saw several men grab net launchers. It wouldn't do any good if their bait got captured himself.

But Rhaego turned and fled before they could shoot the snares, and the men gave chase. One threw a bomb as hard as he could, and the flash bang exploded to Rhaego's right, driving him left.

D'Artagnan's hand tightened around his lock picks, pressing painful indentations into his skin. Then he caught a flash of white between the trees, and he probably only noticed because he was used to Ayelet swooping in out of nowhere. His stomach clenched with worry for her as well, especially because once again she hadn't stayed at her post like she was supposed to. But her rescues were always fortuitous, and d'Artagnan was glad Rhaego would have the backup. Now the rest of them just had to free enough dragons to turn the odds to their favor.

Porthos moved first, breaking cover and darting toward one of the captured dragons. D'Artagnan and Clara followed, each of them splitting up to take a different target. It wasn't until d'Artagnan rounded the back of his that he realized it was the black Spanish dragon in the chains. The beast immediately fidgeted and growled, and d'Artagnan shushed him urgently.

"I'm here to help," he hissed as he dropped to his knees and reached for the heavy duty lock that bound the fetters on the dragon's neck and wings together. The lock was much larger than he was used to, which was going to make using his rather small picks difficult.

He tried not to cast worried looks over his shoulder toward the woods where Rhaego and Ayelet had gone, which would only interrupt his attempts. Only a third of the men had gone after the russet dragon, which left far too many behind to discover them.

Sure enough, a shout of alarm went up far too soon, and d'Artagnan whirled. A man was charging toward him, but a thunderous report cracked the air and he went sprawling. There went the element of surprise.

D'Artagnan turned back to his task as more musket fire rent through the clearing. He had to finish this and trust the others to watch his back.

A dragon shrieked and he felt the ground shake as it reared up and slammed its forelegs back down. Someone had succeeded.

The black dragon shifted and rumbled turbulently.

"Hold still," d'Artagnan snapped as he pushed the lock picks more earnestly into the key hole. Chaos had erupted behind him and he wanted nothing more than to abandon this and leap into the fray, but they needed the reinforcements.

Finally the lock snapped open and d'Artagnan yanked it off. Then he had to unfetter the shackles and disentangle the chains linking them. The black dragon surged to his feet, not waiting for d'Artagnan to get the collar off. It was free now to fight, though, so he scrambled out of the way to let it. With a raging roar, it charged into the cluster of bandits.

D'Artagnan drew his sword and went left toward where a handful of men were making their way around the trees toward Athos's and Aramis's position. Those two were still shooting down at the main melee to cover Porthos and Clara. D'Artagnan burst into a run and slammed into the two men from behind, pushing them to the ground. They immediately leaped back up and the clash of their three blades rang out with a strident peal.

D'Artagnan parried and riposted, lunging and twisting as the men spread out to come at him from opposite sides. But in the next moment, Athos joined him, blade brandished, and the two of them together swiftly dispatched their opponents. Then they turned and went back toward the ruins, though there was little fighting for them to partake in down there. The Musketeer dragons had joined the fray and were making quick work of the bandits. Most of them were fleeing into the forest now while many more lay scattered in broken heaps across the ground.

"Where's Boudier?" Athos asked tensely.

D'Artagnan swept his gaze around, but he didn't spot the leader of this band of dragon hunters. The man must have gotten away. Again.

One of the dragons gave chase to a straggler and snatched him up with its jaws, then flung him through the air into a tree with a resounding crack. The beast then spun toward d'Artagnan and Athos, fangs bared, eyes flashing with fulvous rage.

D'Artagnan immediately stiffened and raised his hands. "Whoa there…"

The dragon's nostrils flared, but after a moment of consideration, it let out a snort and turned away from them. Sounds of fighting throughout the area died down.

Aramis made his way toward them, muskets in each hand. Porthos and Clara also appeared, eyes taking in the scene.

"That all of them?" Porthos asked.

"Several got away," d'Artagnan replied.

"Including Boudier," Athos added gruffly.

Aramis's gaze was on the woods, expression slightly furrowed. After a few moments, though, the familiar colors of Rhaego and Ayelet could be seen weaving between the foliage toward them. D'Artagnan also relaxed at seeing they were all right. Savron and Vrita stood intermingled with the other three dragons who'd fought alongside them all.

But there were several that still needed to be freed, so they all wordlessly spread out to do just that.

.o.0.o.

Porthos worked his lock picks into the last key hole, breaking it open after only a few tries. Clara quickly removed the collar from the dragon and threw it aside as Porthos helped shuck the fetters off the wings. The creature stood and gave itself a small shake as though to dispel the lingering feel of iron chains. Were it a dragon Porthos was familiar with, he would've given it an assuring pat on the back, but he refrained from pushing its personal boundaries as it shuffled off to join its clan mates.

He tucked his picks back into their leather case and pocketed it. That was the last dragon, which meant they were finished here. Aramis had offered to look the dragons over for injury, but they had been visibly mistrustful, so he hadn't pushed it and instead had given the Musketeer dragons a thorough once-over after the battle. They'd received a few scratches from the acimite weapons, but nothing too serious. Porthos looked around at the mess left behind. There was too much to properly clean it up, especially if they weren't going to let anyone know about who'd they'd encountered out here. Athos and d'Artagnan had at least gathered up the acimite weapons, as those could definitely be put to use on the war front.

"Thank you for your help," Clara told them all. "I probably would not have been able to rescue them all on my own, at least not without serious injury being done."

"You'll have to relocate your sanctuary," Aramis commented.

She nodded. "I know. And we will be more…discreet about it," she added with a glance at Athos. Clara then turned to the Musketeer dragons. "I will stay out of the military encampments. If you would give your fellow dragons the respect of telling them about me, should they wish for a different life."

Savron inclined his head in response.

Porthos exchanged an uncertain look with his fellow musketeers. None of them knew exactly what that gesture meant, whether Savron was just being polite, or whether their dragons would actually spread the word about defecting. Even more…Porthos wasn't sure it was necessarily a wrong thing if they did. And that was just as unsettling as the prospect of change.

The musketeers bid Clara farewell and started to head off, but Porthos lingered a moment, waiting until the others were out of earshot.

"I admire what yer doin' here," he said. "If you ever need anything, you can find me in Paris."

Clara regarded him for a prolonged beat with an odd look, but then she inclined her head in gratitude.

Porthos watched her turn and mount up on one of the dragons, bareback. Then she and her motley clan set off, and it was Porthos's turn to join his own clan and head home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT TIME
> 
> A massive prison break from the Chatelet throws Paris into chaos.


End file.
